


The Gladiator

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Meant To Be 2015 challenge, Mentions of Violence, past references to death of children, roman gladiators, slight change to spelling of names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4320189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jen has been given his freedom and lives a more peaceful life in the city. He is given the chance to save someone from certain death in the beast pits and he chooses Jarrod. Jarrod is a follower of the Christ and brings danger to Jen's home but the two men become close and, when Jarrod's life is endangered, they realise that what they feel for each other is more than friendship. When the chance finally comes will Jarrod choose Jen over freedom and faith or will the two men be torn asunder by their differences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gladiator

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Meanttobe challenge on LJ, using the original prompt for inspiration:
> 
>  
> 
> _He won his fame--and his freedom--in the gory pits of Rome's Coliseum. Yet the greatest challenge for once-legendary gladiator Caros Viriathos comes to him through a slave. "His" slave, the beautiful and mysterious Pelonia Valeria. Her secret brings danger to his household but offers Caros a love like he's never known....Should anyone learn she is a Christian, Pelonia will be executed. Her faith threatens not only herself, but her master. Can she convince a man who found fame through unforgiving brutality to show mercy? And when she's ultimately given the choice, will Pelonia choose freedom or the love of a gladiator?_

Jen poured himself a glass of wine and moved over to the window; it was a beautiful day, the sky cloudless, an azure blue that reminded him of long days under the relentless sun, his arms aching from training, his body wet with sweat, the very stink of him offensive.

It had been two years since his manumission but he had not forgotten; he would never forget because his memories kept him sane, kept him grateful. There had been days when he thought he would never taste freedom, days when he had bathed in his own thick blood. Only his skill and his determination had saved him and he would be eternally grateful to his master for his _mercy_.

He still fought on occasion when he was requested to do so, and his last battle had been epic. His victory had won him another prize and although it galled him, he had to be ready to accept it. Once a slave, he was more than reluctant to look at another as property but his old master had insisted and now he awaited his visitor with more than a little trepidation. His former master had given him the papers with a curious glance. Jen could not read nor could he write, so he had no concept of what they said or what they meant. Ludicrus had looked puzzled when Jen had haltingly asked why he had been granted such a _favor_. 

“Because you still please me, and win for me even though I have set you free. The man you have chosen will forever be in your debt,” he’d said as he’d thrown back his wine. “But I am surprised that you chose such a prisoner. I had thought you might choose a beautiful maiden to keep you amused.”  
“I chose this man rather than see him food for everyone’s entertainment.” He had met Ludicrus’s gaze with a wry smile. “And I do not have the delicacy to handle fair maidens. Remember what I used to be.”

His old master had laughed then and shook his head. It was clear he did not understand Jen’s decision but he had promised, and so Jen’s _prize_ was now on his way here and ready for inspection.

Jen sighed and sat on the window seat, his head spun with a surfeit of wine and he wished he had not started drinking so early in the day. Danella, his servant, was out in the court-yard kneading dough and he watched the sun play upon her red gold hair. She was big breasted and pale skinned, and he knew that most people thought he had her daily. He let them have those thoughts for they protected his true feelings and he could only be thankful for that.

He knew that, in the arena, his fighting name had been _Beautiful one_. He was tall and broad, large shoulders and a taut chest, flat abdominal muscles and thick thighs. Despite this his face was as fine boned and soft skinned as any woman’s. His eyes large and green, lashes copious and lush. His mouth had been likened to that of Venus and his red blond hair had grown longer since he had become more indolent. Women of all classes had sought him out but he had let them down as gently as he could. All of his life he had preferred the company of men and when he had been taken as a green youth and given to his master he had been _encouraged_ by some of the other gladiatorial slaves to give into his desires. Not only had he been trained in the art of fighting but in the art of physical desire. Soon he knew how to pleasure another, and he found himself in great demand. As he grew and his fame grew with him he became the predator rather than the prey and he took his pleasure where and when it was offered.

Since his freedom he had been more tactful; he had no desire to visit the brothels or take part in orgies. He preferred a quieter existence and he was heading towards his more formative years with some sort of dignity. He gave thanks to his Gods on a regular basis and he held quiet gatherings where cards were played and coins exchanged hands. He did admit to missing physical pleasure, but it was something that he was learning to live without.

****

“My lord.” Dannella had appeared as if by enchantment by his side. “They are here.”

Jen breathed in deeply and turned to greet his visitors; there were two town elders dressed in their finest robes and they shuffled awkwardly clearly not at home in the abode of a former slave. One spoke to him quickly in Latin and he shook his head to indicate he did not understand. His native land had been Britannia and, although he had been taken from those shores when he was but 15 summers, he still spoke in that more familiar tongue. He had a quick mind and had managed to learn some ruminants of the language but he needed those around him to be slow and patient, something these men were not.

“We have brought your prize,” the man’s words were rough and hesitant. “Do you wish us to bring him in chained?”

Jen shuddered and he shook his head even before he spoke. He remembered only too well the heavy sting of the manacle and the feeling of being restrained.

“No, please, let him come to me unfettered.”

“Very well.”

One of the elders left the room and Jen listened carefully to the distant hum of conversation, the rattle of shackles being removed. He felt his shoulders tense and his stomach roll, an odd feeling of nervous excitement as he waited.

A third man entered and Jen’s breath caught in his throat; tongue stuck to the roof of his suddenly dry mouth. This man was tall, taller than any man he had ever seen, taller than most of his competitors in the arena, taller than any Centurion. His head, despite being lowered, neared the top of Jen’s ornately decorated ceiling and his bare feet were huge. He was dressed in ill-fitting robes of hemp, the material clearly uncomfortable and chafing. His knees protruded from beneath them and his fingers seemed unable to stop clenching, trying to pull them down to cover what was left of his modesty. If not for Jen’s magnificent victory he would have been headed for the arena, and on the menu for the hungry lions. Jen had been given the chance to free a prisoner and he had chosen this one. Clearly the man was not really free, but he was alive and Jen hoped that he might gain some gratitude for that.

“What is your name?” He spoke slowly and hoped the man would understand. Chestnut hair spilled over the man’s shoulders and fell into speckled hazel eyes. The man’s skin was dark, swarthy almost, and it was hard to tell from where he had been taken.

“Jarrod,” the man’s voice was rough and his accent unrecognizable. “That is the name I was given by the slavers that took me.”

“From where were you taken?”

“From Podlachia; my family were killed by the invaders.” Soft eyes met his and Jen saw the defiance there. “A wife and two young sons,” he continued, his voice flat and unemotional. “Perhaps it would have been a mercy to leave me to the lions.”

Jen stared at the man with ill-concealed horror. He had lost his own family decades ago but the pain still lingered. His time in the arena had hardened him but he still knew how much losing someone dear could hurt. He had never had a wife or a child, but he imagined that their deaths would be unbearable.

“I am sorry,” he said and shook his head. “I did not know.”

“I was big and strong and they thought I would make good sport,” the man was still speaking. “And that I would be entertaining.”

“They were going to feed you to the lions!” Jen hoped he did not sound too high and mighty. “That is a fate no one should suffer.”

“So they gave me to you instead?” Jarrod did not smile but there was a spark of interest in those stormy eyes. “You must be very important.”

“I was a Gladiator,” he spoke without modesty. “One of the best; undefeated in all disciplines and favorite of the Emperor. My master promised me freedom if I was unbeaten for one year. I met his terms and bettered them. Two months ago he asked me a favor. He wanted me to take on one last fight – just for sport, you understand – to defend my master’s honor and the honor of the Emperor. For my reward I was offered the freedom of any prisoner.”

“You chose me? Why?”

“Because I did not want to see you ripped to shreds, I do not favor the brutality of the beast pit.”

Jarrod fell silent and he shuffled awkwardly; the town elders seemed to have vanished, eager to flee, not wanting to tarry a moment longer. Jen understood their reluctance. He was, in essence, still a freed slave and he was not close enough to nobility for anyone to honor him.

“I will have Dannella fill you a bath and find you some robes that fit your body.” He put out his hand and let it fall upon Jarrod’s arm. The other man was tense, bowstring taut, tiny shivers vibrating beneath his skin. “I know that this is not ideal, but I want you to be at home here. I will ask nothing of you but company. It is lonely here and I am not well thought of enough for me to move in greater circles.”

“Thank you,” it was so soft he barely heard it. “Your kindness is . . . unexpected.”

“How old are you, Jarrod? How long since they took you from your home?”

“I am considered almost elderly.” Sharp teeth flashed briefly. “I am thirty summers and it seems like an eternity since they took me. My youngest son was still a babe in arms and my eldest no more than two winters gone. Ours was a marriage that was made for convenience. Her father sold her to mine for two goats and a sheep.” His eyes met Jen’s. “Love does not figure much in these times of war and madness. I loved my boys though, and I will never forget their screams or their dead eyes.” 

“Dear Gods.” Jen’s throat hurt and he had no words.

“I had no fear of the lions,” Jarrod said and shrugged. “I had faith that I would die quickly, and that I would see my boys again.”

Jen froze, he had heard such talk before; talk of faith and hope. He knew then that he had truly chosen trouble and that danger had walked into his house at the very same time as Jarrod.

“Do you follow the new God?” He kept his voice low, his eyes fixed on Jarrod’s face. “You could die for even admitting it, and I could die for keeping you here.”

“I have but one God and one faith.” Jarrod’s eyes were bright and honest. “He is gentle and kind and merciful, and He will see me home. My family wait for me in paradise, and one day I will rise and meet them.”

“You must never say such things in public or even here in this most private of places.” Jen shook his head. “You know what happened to your _savior_ , you know what the Romans did to him and what they would do to those who follow him. The lions would be a mercy.”

“I do not fear death.” Jarrod’s chin tipped up and Jen saw the defiance there. He could see the fine trembling in the man’s limbs, hear the judder in his voice and he knew that his faith was true but flawed.

“But I do.” Jen smiled wryly. “I saved you and I do not regret it, but you must keep your faith a secret. Go to your knees if you must, but do it in the privacy of your own room. Do not talk of your God to anyone . . . do you understand me?”

Jarrod nodded.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Go bathe now. We will talk later.”

****

Jen was no fool, most of his life had been spent in the arms of brutality and murder. He had killed many men and, after the first, he had become used to it. Often he had not wanted to see someone die at his hands, but he had swiftly realized it was either them or him and he had learned to love life. Despite being used to death even he had been horrified at the treatment of the Christians. The Emperor had abhorred them and used them as examples. Some died as their _savior_ had done, hanging from the rough wooden cross, hands and feet held firm by rusty nails. Others were thrown to wild dogs for the entertainment of the masses. The worse were those who burned to death, their bodies used as human torches to light the dark. Jen did not understand why someone should be persecuted for their faith but there was naught he could do. 

Now he had a Christian in his own humble household and he hoped that Jarrod would keep his faith quietly. He had no concept of what this man was really like, perhaps Jarrod would betray his trust, and perhaps he would bring the wrath of the Emperor down upon them. Jen could only pray to his own Gods and hope that his good deed would not be the death of him.

****

He requested Jarrod join him for food; it was late in the evening and the sun had vanished beyond the horizon, dark shadows illuminated by the tapers Dannella lit so that they could see more clearly. The scent of wax and straw mingled with the warm smell of bread and honey. There was pork soft and tender and the flank of a cow. There were plates of fresh fruit and nuts on the table and a carafe of Jen’s preferred wine.

It was clear from the offset that Jarrod had never eaten such fine food; he was attempting to be polite but his eyes darted everywhere and Jen could see that he was clearly hungry and desperate. Jen had never been one to stand on ceremony and he made a swift gesture before dipping into the food himself, ripping off shreds of meat with his teeth and wiping the grease from his face with a grin. For a moment they ate in silence, Jarrod finally giving into his urges and piling his bowl with food. Jen felt oddly comfortable with his new companion.

“Tell me about your life before they brought you here,” he asked, finally, and Jarrod looked up at him with narrowed eyes, his head to one side, hair falling into his face.

“I was a farmer; I had land of my own and animals too. It was hard work, physical but I was happy. I would have taught my sons how to plough a field or skin a rabbit, my wife would bake bread in the oven my father had made for us. I was a man of peace not violence, and I listened to the teachings of the Christ.”

“Hush,” Jen swallowed and looked over his shoulder foolishly. “Walls do indeed have ears.”

“Forgive me.” Jarrod took a long gulp of wine. “I did not believe that I would ever leave my home. I could not comprehend things ever changing.”

“I’m sorry.” Jen blinked and the tapers flickered.

“They told me you were a powerful man; that you were the greatest gladiator that Rome had ever known.” Jarrod was staring at him now, gaze sharp and unwavering. “They said that you were brutal and merciless, and yet you have shown me nothing but mercy.”

“It was kill or be killed.”

“I do not think I would have the stomach to fight in the arena. I could not look into the eyes of another man and then send him on his way. We are taught to forgive those who trespass against us and our own trespasses will be forgiven.”

“Do you think you could forgive the men who killed your sons?” It was a cruel question and Jen felt guilt burn his throat even as the words left his mouth. Jarrod’s face was oddly impassive.

“In time perhaps,” the reply was flat. “I did not know these men and I will never see them again in this life.” Bright eyes met his. “Do you forgive yourself for all the men you killed? Have you made peace with yourself?”

“Mostly – yes.” Jen took another gulp of his wine. The tapers were going down and the light was fading. Jarrod’s face was lit by the dimming orange glow and he could see the fine bones of his cheeks, the sweep of his lashes, and his foxlike eyes slanting and exotic. Guilt moved through him like a living thing and he realized that he found the other man beautiful, his body reacting to another for the first time in, what seemed like, an eternity. “I reassure myself with the constant mantra that if I had not killed them they would have taken my life. I had no choice.”

“If you had met me in the arena you would have killed me rather than save me,” Jarrod’s statement was brutal but honest. “You would have taken my life for the entertainment of others.”

“Yes. Again, I would have had little choice.”

Jarrod was silent for a long time; he pushed what was left of his food around his plate and Jen wondered what he was thinking.

“Where do you think you will go when your life finally ends?” His words came out of the blue.

“I believe Mercury will take me to the River Styx, I will pay the ferryman, Charon, a fee to cross the river where I will be met and judged by Minos, Aenaeus, and Rhadymanthas. Perhaps I will be granted a stay in the Fields of Elysium and not be tortured by the Furies for my deeds on earth.”

Jarrod laughed wryly and Jen saw the dent of dimples in his cheeks. 

“Where will you go?” Jen asked.

“To heaven, if God forgives me my sins. I believe I will see my family again and that we will be united in eternal bliss.”

“I’m uncertain I would want to see anyone on Earth again.” Jen wanted to shake off the sudden intensity of the conversation. “There are a few people who would not be grateful to see me once more.”

A real laugh this time and Jarrod rose stretching out long limbs, a yawn cracking his jaw. “Is there somewhere you would like me to go to take my rest?” He asked, softly. I am thankful for the food and succor you have given me, but I am bone weary.”

“Dannella has prepared a room for you.” Jen snapped his fingers and the red-head came instantly. “Sleep well. I have enjoyed our conversation, and I do not regret saving you despite everything.”

“Then you will not be disturbed if I pray?”

“Say a prayer for me.” Jen could not hold back his smile. “I do not fear death but what comes after . . . it scares me.”

****

Jarrod settled into the household as if he had always been there.

Jen found himself watching the younger man amazed by the way he had accepted his situation and was handling it with dignity. Jarrod joined him to break his fast in the morning however early or late Jen arose. He was a quiet companion, happier to listen than to talk and Jen found himself telling Jarrod things he’d never told another soul, recounting tales of his days in the arena, his guilt at killing, and his relief on surviving. It was oddly cathartic, and it left him feeling more at peace than he had been in decades. 

Jen also observed how gentle and patient Jarrod was; he would help Dannella with her duties, spending hours in the garden planting herbs to help flavor the food, picking fresh fruit from the lemon trees that grew there. Often Jen would find Jarrod sitting silently in the shade of those trees, the scent of citrus washing over him. Jen knew that Jarrod was praying and he did not disturb the man during these times. He knew that Jarrod worshiped his God but he also knew Jarrod had heeded Jen’s warning, knew that Jarrod said his devotions in secret and that no one would ever know Jarrod was a follower of the Christ.

****

Jen grew used to having Jarrod close by; it was a slow burning thing, but as the days passed he realized that he was more than fond of the man. It had been a long time since he had given himself to anyone and he had managed well enough without physical pleasure but now, now he was becoming more and more enamored by Jarrod and he felt like a green boy in the man’s presence, stammering like a love sick fool every time he tried to speak.

He could not approach Jarrod and confess his feelings; Jarrod had been married and there was no indication that he may prefer the _company_ of men. Aside to that Jarrod was a worshiper of the Christ and Jen knew that his teachings mostly involved family and the love between a man and a woman. Jen could not help his feelings, and he refused to feel any guilt because of them. Jarrod would never know and Jen was proud of his self-restraint.

****

“May I go out?” Jarrod’s question came out of the blue. “Am I allowed to go into the city?”

“You are not a prisoner here.” Jen’s stomach clenched a little. “You are allowed to come and go as you please. However, I would know what your purpose is.”

Jarrod’s tan skin flushed deep pink across his high bones and he lowered his eyes trying to hide them behind his lashes.

“I would meet with friends,” his voice was but a whisper. “Others like me.”

“You go to worship?” Jen put his hand on Jarrod’s arm. “You should proceed with great caution. You know how much the governor here hates those whose views are different to his own. He has the Emperor’s ear, and the Emperor listens.”

“I would not put myself or you in danger.” Jarrod’s eyes met his and he saw something there that made his heart leap hopefully. “You have been nothing but good to me and I owe you my life and my liberty.”

“Then go but please take care.” Jen let his fingers tighten around Jarrod’s bicep, his pads pressing against the hard muscle there. “I want you back safe and alive. I did not save you from the lions to see you killed by the intolerance of others.”

Jarrod bowed his head and Jen stepped aside. He watched as Jarrod wrapped himself in a large cloak and pulled up the hood. He knew that he could forbid the man, knew he could prevent him from leaving but he would not, and could not. He had not given Jarrod his freedom lightly, and he would not become either a gaoler or a master, as he knew only too well what it was like to be a prisoner.

****

Jarrod’s visits to the town became a regular thing and Jen would often find himself sitting at the window waiting for the other man to return. Fear made him restless and he drank too much wine, spent too much time staring into the darkness saying prayers to whatever God was listening. He had no idea where Jarrod went, or how many others he met with, all he did know was that Jarrod was courting danger and both of them might well burn for it.

The Emperor hated those who followed the Christ and he would often burn hundreds of them at one time using their deaths as a deterrent and an example. Jen gleaned information from those around him, from Ludicrus who often came to visit, and from Dannella who listened to the gossip of other households. He was concerned for Jarrod’s safety more than he worried about his own. He knew that he risked much by shielding a follower of Christ, but he no longer cared much. Jarrod meant more to him than his safety and that was how it would be.

One night it happened; unexpectedly and out of the blue. He was waiting by the window for Jarrod when the cloying darkness was lit by orange and yellow fire. Even from his house in the hills he could see the flames and hear the screams and he called for Dannella, fear gripping him so tightly he could scarcely breathe.

“What is happening?”

“The Governor has taken it upon himself to burn out the traitors, to set fire to the city to flush out those that do not follow the true Gods.” Dannella’s face was pale, tears streaming from her eyes. “The Emperor has done the same and it appears that the whole of Rome is afire. Nero is gripped by madness and it is catching. The scent of burnt flesh is everywhere, master. There are so many innocents who will die.”

Jen rose up and ran into the streets; it was as Dannella said, houses afire, and men pillars of flame. He could smell the sickening stench of scorching meat and he knew what it meant. His eyes watered, tears smearing across his skin and he was almost blind with it. He moved without purpose, running like a chicken who had lost its head, searching and searching, desperation fuelling his movements.

He returned home as dawn broke and he could see nothing. He washed his face and pulled the smoke stinking robes from his body. Naked he stepped into his bath, rubbing at his flesh to get the stench from it, his mind empty of everything but loss.

“Jen . . . .”

Jarrod had never used his name before and he turned to see the other man standing in the shadow of the doorway. He was rumpled and dirty but alive and Jen could not hold back for a moment longer. He rose out of the tub and embraced Jarrod without caution or shame, his arms wrapping around Jarrod’s shaking body, the aroma of smoke permeating everything, the stink of Jarrod’s sweat mingling with it in his nostrils. He pulled Jarrod towards the bath, pushing him back into the water and pulling the wrecked robes from his skin. Jarrod went without protest and soon he was naked. Jen watched as he lowered himself into the water and he followed embracing that magnificent body, unable to stop himself from pressing his lips hard against Jarrod’s own. 

Jarrod made no move to stop him; instead he let himself be pulled ever closer and he put his own arms tight around Jen’s body, opening his mouth to welcome Jen in. They were kissing then, hard and fast, like a battle. Tongues clashed and tangled, callused hands pressed against hot solid flesh. Jen let his fingers go lower and then he had Jarrod’s manhood in his hands, felt it grow rigid under his ministrations, like iron beneath silk. Jarrod was gasping apologies, mumbling things beneath his breath in a language Jen did not understand. He felt a huge paw grasp his cock and he bucked into it, hips moving, his own mind whirling away. Soon there were no thoughts and no words; soon there was only the soft grunts of pleasure and the warm flood of release over his hand. He let his own relief come and he cried out loudly, water splashing onto the tiled floor, the stench of fire finally dissipating and vanishing into the ether.

****

Jen dressed and went to break his fast as if it were any other morning. Sun, weak and watery, had broken through the lingering smog of the night before and the smell of lemon from his trees was beginning to mask the stench of smoke and burning flesh. 

Jarrod was already at the table; he looked small somehow, shamefaced, his eyes heavy when he looked up at Jen, his expression unreadable.

“I am sorry,” he began, “I had no conception . . . .”

“The Governor set the place on fire.” Jen felt too sick to eat and he poured himself a generous amount of wine. “But it was not just this place. Rome itself has burned.”

“The Emperor is mad,” Jarrod’s words rang with an awful truth. “Everyone must see that now.”

“I thought you were dead,” Jen could not hold back the words. “I thought you had died in the fires.”

“I am so sorry,” Jarrod said again. “I would never recklessly cause you pain.”

 

“What we did last night . . . .” Jen felt the words stick in his throat and it hurt to say them. 

“Do you think I did not want it?” Jarrod’s hand was on his sudden and unexpected. “You are all I care about in this world now.”

“But your God does not condone . . . .”

“My God . . . ,” Jarrod paused, bit his lip and shook his head. “His preaching’s were all about love and forgiveness. I do not see what we did as sin.”

“But you were married – you had a family.”

“As I told you once, my marriage was one of convenience; I had to marry so that I could keep the land I had been given. I had to have sons so that I could give that land on. I never loved my wife, I respected her and we had a good enough marriage.” Stormy eyes met his own. “The way that I felt about her does not compare with how I feel about you.”

“You do not feel it is wrong?”

“No, because it feels right.” Jarrod’s fingers closed around his hand and held on tight. “And in all this chaos it is the one steady thing.”

“Gods!” Jen lifted Jarrod’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. “I did not dare hope.”

Jarrod laughed then; real and joyful, a relief.

“God saved me last night. He saved me for a reason, and I truly believe that the reason is you. I am content that you feel the same way.”

Jen had no words and he could only convey how he felt with actions. He wanted, and he wanted more than a quick fumble, more than desperation. He rose to his feet and pulled Jarrod’s hand hoping that his intentions were clear. Jarrod’s smile told him that he had succeeded and without asking the other man followed him towards his bedchamber, the sun piercing through the window and filling their world with light.

****

It had been a long time since he had lain with another man; Jarrod was a virgin in this and Jen wanted to be naught but gentle. However, once Jarrod laid down on the bed and took off his robes he could barely contain himself. Jarrod’s body was magnificent, hard muscle and soft silky skin. His chest had a fine sheen of hair across it, wiry chestnut that led down to his flat stomach and further. His cock was large, standing out proud and erect from his body. His balls tight beneath. Jen’s mouth watered and he knew that he could not be patient. He wanted it all and he wanted it now, and when he lay himself down between Jarrod’s strong thighs he felt as if he could die happy.

He had known carnal pleasure before but never like this - this was something that rose beyond the physical, this was something that made him tremble inside, made his stomach clench, and his senses spin. Jarrod was like clay beneath his hands, soft and pliant, giving him everything and more. They moved together in perfect harmony, bodies in tandem. They were so in tune that they came together and Jen felt as if he was flying, soaring high above the city, untouchable.

****

It was love and there was no other word for it; he wanted Jarrod by him morning and night, did not want to let him out of his sight. The feeling was strange but not unwelcome. In all of his years as a gladiator he had known nothing but brutality and carnality, and he had never imagined that his life would change. 

He could only hope that Jarrod felt the same. The younger man seemed content and happy to spend his nights in Jen’s bed, and his days by Jen’s side. He still went into the town to meet his _friends_ and Jen tried hard not to worry about him, tried not to spend his time standing by the window waiting for Jarrod to return. They rarely spoke about Jarrod’s faith; Jen still worshiped his own gods and often took offerings to the temple. He was not swayed by Jarrod’s beliefs but he did admire his faith and he was determined not to let their differing views come between them.

The days and months passed and, gradually, things began to change. The Emperor died and another took his place. This Emperor was not averse to those who followed the Christ and they were allowed to worship without fear. There was no more hiding and, finally, it was safe for Jarrod to admit his faith. Now he was able to thank his God for the food he ate, for the roof over his head. Jen watched him go down on his knees in devotion and he felt happy that his lover could be so open.

It had been almost a year and they were still content together; their passion had not dimmed and Jen swore he could see love in those familiar hazel eyes. Nothing was ever said but there was no need for words. Sometimes when Jen stood by his window Jarrod would come up behind him and put his arms around Jen’s waist holding him tightly.

“This is all ours,” he would say, his mouth on Jen’s neck, his hands moving lower seeking the hardness beneath Jen’s robes. “The world belongs to us, Jen and we are so happy in it.”

Jen would turn into Jarrod’s embrace and press his mouth against eager lips, pressing himself against Jarrod’s firm body, giving himself over to the physical desire that always sprang so hot between them.

****

The Governor himself called the meeting and all citizens were urged to attend; Jen was curious and eager to go, Jarrod came with him and they joined Ludicrus in the crowds. Jen’s former master seemed ill at ease and Jen wondered what he might know. Everyone was on edge, one man talking over another. When the Governor took the floor the multitude fell silent, every eye upon him.

“I have accepted the Christ and his teachings,” the Governor’s words caused a ripple of amazement, an incessant buzz. “I urge all those here to examine their own faith, to open their eyes and to see.” He paused and he opened his arms wide. “To all of those who keep slaves, I tell you this . . . from this day forward all those slaves are free. I order you to let them leave your service and return to their own homes and families. We must scrutinize our own actions and whether they are right. We are wrong to deny these slaves their liberty and we must put this right.”

Jen felt as if cold water had been poured over his head; he could not protest, could not say ‘no’. He himself had been set free and he could not, in all honesty, deny Jarrod his freedom. Beside him Jarrod held himself rigid and Jen could not tell by his expression what he was thinking. When the Governor finally stopped talking the crowd dispersed. Jen wanted to take Jarrod’s hand in his, wanted to hold onto him for one last time but he could not. Instead they walked back to his home in silence and Jen felt his throat close realizing that this was the end.

****

“You are free.” Jen pushed the carafe of wine over to Jarrod who took a long swallow. “You can go back to your home now, if you wish. You can go where you wish. Not only that, you are free to worship your God, and free to tell others about him. I would not keep you here against your will.”

Jarrod stared at him with stormy eyes. He had not yet spoken, not said a word since they had returned from the town square and listened to the Governor’s speech. Jen tried to imagine what was going on in Jarrod’s head but he had never been good at reading people even those of whom he was fond.

“I have not been your slave for a long time now.” Jarrod put the carafe down. “I have not thought of myself as your prisoner. I believed that we were equals you and I.”

Jen swallowed as he realized what Jarrod was saying.

“But you can go home now,” he choked out. “You can choose to worship your God in peace.”

“I do not want to go back home, there is naught for me there. I have lived here in your household for more than two summers and I thought I would always live here, with you.”

“You would choose me over your God? Choose to stay here rather than be free?”

“I am free, Jen.” Jarrod smiled then, small and tight, no dimples. “And I do not have to choose. My God preaches free will and choice. My choice is simple . . . I want to stay here and love you. Why would you think any different?”

“You want to spend the rest of your life with me?” Jen felt his heart beat quicken, the ice that had formed around it melt away. Jarrod was right, Jarrod was wise. He had not thought of the younger man as his slave for a long time so therefore he had already set him free. 

“Yes my love,” again the declaration that they had both shied away from. “It is what I want more than anything. You have never asked me to choose between my God and you. You have never stopped me praying or treated me any differently. Why would things now change? I have no home but here, and no one that I care for more than you. My sons are in heaven now and one day I pray that we will go there together, I would like them to meet you.”

“I-I . . . .” Jen could not stop the tear that trickled down his cheek. “I do not worship your God, Jarrod.”

“Then I can spend my time here changing your mind.” A genuine laugh then, and Jen found himself in Jarrod’s strong arms. “It will not be an onerous task.”   
“It may take some time.” Jen moved to kiss those beloved lips, his arms holding tight to the one thing in life that meant something to him. Jarrod had changed him already; he no longer thought of the brutality that brought him to this place, he no longer felt guilt for those men he had killed to save his own skin. He had learned to forgive himself long ago and he, too, was free.

“I have all the time in this life and the next.” Jarrod’s big hands came to cup his face, mouth raised to meet his and then they were kissing, the light bursting around them as the sun began its descent, one day ending, a thousand more to come.

End


End file.
